Watching Mother

It was a gorgeous morning as I leaned nervously near the top steps of the staircase. I was 16 and I’d only recently woken up to the joys and possibilities of sex and the female form. I’d been skirting the edges of it for quite some time now, probably a randy boy since the age of six but I went to an all boys school and it took a long time for the information to get through to me that girls were good.

I had taken of late to spying on my mother, as she was the only female I was really exposed to regularly. She was lovely, everything a boy or a man could want, nice large breasts, not too large but not so small that she could ever be accused of being flat chested, long legs, tall and slim. She was this morning going through her morning routine, tidying the house up and getting dressed. Well there she was at the other end of the long hall in her bedroom facing the huge mirrors she had on the wall of her bedroom as she began the process I had waited for.

I watched as she pulled her nightdress over her head, I began nervously fondling myself as her nakedness was revealed for all to see. I was the only one in the house and she thought I was downstairs watching TV. Her breasts sat proudly on her chest they were only showing the slightest sag to them, but nothing bad at all (I’ve since learned the difference between women who have had children and those who haven’t and these were much firmer than you would expect.

She stopped and looked at herself in the mirror then walked across to her drawers and pulled out a pair of knickers and bra, items that I’d fondled at times in the past and knew well. Whilst she was gone I ducked back and gave myself a couple of good hard tugs thinking about myself getting to play with those luscious tits.

I heard her move back in front of the mirror and I moved back forwards so I could watch the rest of the show. It must have been that movement that gave me away now that I look back on it. Probably the bright sunshine coming through the window behind me cast a shadow I at 16 hadn’t really considered in my voyeuristic adventure. But nevertheless she continued to put her knickers on which was a heaven sent picture, her bending over reaching down letting her breasts dangle there in front of me is something I still to this day can’t get out of my mind.

When she stood and pulled her knickers the rest of the way up she walked out of my sight again. I waited as she’d left her bra behind, naturally assuming she’d decided on a different bra. That’s when my heart leapt into my mouth as I heard her say “John come here.” in that stern voice of hers. I couldn’t move. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, I’d been caught red-handed intruding on her privacy.

She waited and didn’t say another word. But I could tell it wasn’t a wait to see if I was actually there, it was a wait that said no matter what she knew I was there.